Forced Bonds

Chapter 46

Gotham
December 11, 23:00 EDT

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Wayne Manor is enveloped in darkness. The only light that reflects in the windows are from the street lamps on the other side of the fence. It is never this vacant, even when the Wayne's were on vacation. Everyone knows something is wrong, but no one dares approach. Even the desperate, who have been itching to rob the place, steer away from its dark foreboding.

The sound of keys and bats are the only thing that breaks the dead silence. Down in the cave, Batman looks restlessly through his files. The blue light from the computer helps to keep him awake, but also burns his eyes. His usually laser focus is waning, but he doesn't stop. It is a cold, dark atmosphere.

The Zeta Beam glows and whirs, much to Batman's annoyance. He is also relieved, maybe it is the Teen Titan's bringing him new information. Anything that would help him put the pieces together. A clue, a sign- anything.

"Superman 01."

Shit. "Not now, I'm busy."

Superman walks silently over to where Batman is hunched over the controls. He attempts to put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, but the vigilante catches it in a bone-crushing clench. It does nothing to hurt Superman physically, but the message is clear. He doesn't relent however:

"You need to rest," he tries, but gets no response. The man has returned to his work, already ignoring this Kryptonian pest. "We aren't asking you to stop, but you need to rest."

"Later."

Superman is losing his patience, as he usually did with his brooding co-worker. Especially when he is like this... Ever since that meeting with Fuller, his health has been going down the drain. Eventually, the member's of the Justice League all agreed: It needed to stop.

"Bruce. Look at me."

The clicking stops, hands paused over the glowing keys. Batman hates it when he uses his name. Only a few people knew, but in his head, that was a few too many. He wouldn't put it past himself to invent a drug to make the Kryptonian and everyone else forget, I mean, Anton Fuller already had. However, Robin convinced him otherwise. It is necessary to have someone keep you accountable, he had argued.

But Robin isn't here.

With slow movements, Batman lowers his cowl. He looks at Superman with his dead, bloodshot eyes. An angry vein wiggles on his forehead as he works his jaw. "What?" He commands coldly. He isn't looking for an answer, but gets one anyway.

"You need to stop this. When's the last time you've eaten?"

"..."

"Slept? Don't answer that, but the outcome is still the same."

Bruce raises an unruly eyebrow, the stubble on his chin making his face itch uncomfortably. "In case you plan on trying anything, I've got kryptonite-"

Superman snags Bruce's descending hand as it reaches for his utility belt. He drags it upward and into the expanse above, thanking the cave ceilings for being so high. Bruce is heavy, but only in the sense that he makes it difficult to hold onto him, his weight doesn't even cross Superman's mind.

"Put. Me. Down," Bruce growls at the caped hero.

"If I drop you, you'd probably pass out on contact, even if you did manage to land on your feet."

In a final twist of his body, as if to say, "As if," Bruce brings a piece of metal to his lips. He blows into it, but it doesn't make any sound, well, not for him anyway. Superman picks up on the procession of high pitched clicks and is soon engulfed in a mass of leathery wings and tiny claws.

He can feel Bruce as he tries to tear away, but he keeps his hold. Bruce's shaking fingers doing nothing to release his grasp. Instead of hurting the bats with a mighty fist or laser eyes, he decides to let them do their worst. After all, they are merely an inconvenience. A last ditch effort from a sleep deprived father.

He heads into the zeta beam half dragging a squirming Bruce behind him. Thankfully, the bats didn't have access so they arrived alone in the white halls of the Watchtower. The brightness of the entry chamber pains both of them, but neither complains. Bruce has managed to get his cowl back on before passing through.

"Are you quite done?" Batman scowles at him.

"Not until you've had a healthy amount of self-care."

The billionaire opens his mouth to argue, but Superman gave him a look and he hesitates. If the hero hadn't already been painfully aware of Batman's unstable state, that hesitation would've been a red flag. "I can take care of myself-"

"No. No you can't. Alfred can, but Alfred isn't there. No one is. Not him and not your sons!

"But I am, Bruce."

Batman stands still, the whites of his mask staring blankly at him. At a closer look, however, Superman can see him trembling. He is trying to conceal it under a mask of stony indifference. Unfortunately for Batman, the Kryptonian knew him better than he would've liked.

Superman takes a step forward to comfort him, but he holds up a gloved hand. After a few more breaths, Batman speaks again: "Fine."

Wordlessly, he passes Superman and walks deeper into the Watchtower. Whether he caved in because of a friend's words or his own accord, Superman doesn't know, nor does he care. He is just relieved that Bruce isn't alone anymore.

He'd get him hooked up to an IV as soon as he is out.

Superman can hear as several automatic doors open and close as Batman heads towards his sleeping chamber. Exhaustion hits him like a train, and Bruce immediately falls asleep, not even bothering to take off his suit. A sad smile crosses Superman's lips as he listens to his slow breaths.

"Where is he?"

Superman hadn't moved, but now turns to face Wonder Woman as she approaches. Black Canary and Martian Manhunter are close behind. The psychiatric help has arrived. Superman purses his lips, considering.

"He's asleep."

There is a moment of silence before Wonder Woman gives him a skeptical look. "Are we talking about the same guy here? I'm asking about Mr. Dark and Broody." Black Canary would've laughed at Wonder Woman's joke on any other occasion, but she never joked around with mental health.

"Ah... yeah."

"I can feel his mental anguish from here. I think I will ease his mind," the Martian states before flying off to do his... mind-easing. Martian stuff.

A few dumbfounded seconds later, Wonder Woman hums, impressed. "Odd."

"Very. I was for certain I was going to have to drug him," Superman looks down at the small veil of knock-out-gas in his hands.

Black Canary scoffs, "You'd have better luck punching him."

"I don't think that'd work either," Wonder Woman muses.

"With the way he looked, I'm sure just about anything would've worked."

They are all silent again.

Hope seems very fragile.

Very fragile indeed.